


Means To The End

by Kailene



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jack, Dark, Drabble, Gen, George Eads Appreciation Week, George Eads Appreciation Week 2021, Hurt Jack, Implied/Referenced Torture, Physical Whump, Whump, geaw, psychological whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kailene/pseuds/Kailene
Summary: Jack slips with ease back into this persona. It should scare him, concern him. But it doesn't. There isn't a bar that marks the limits he will go to in order to return to his family.  Written for George Eads Appreciation Week 2021, prompt - Whump.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Means To The End

**Author's Note:**

> This past week was George Eads Appreciation Week. I have WIPs that fit every prompt, and my goal was to finish and post them each day. Well... real life and a stubborn Muse got in the way of that happening and I found myself at the end of the week with nothing to post. Inspiration hit while cruising Pinterest, an partial image of a man dressed in a black suit, white shirt beneath stained with blood. 
> 
> What started out as hurt Jack took a darker turn, and this drabble was born.

~~~MacGyver 2016~~~

Blood soaks the left side of his once pristine dress shirt. 

The material sticks to his fevered skin, pulling against the jagged pieces of torn flesh hidden beneath. 

Split knuckles curl around black material, slide the suit jacket across his chest. Left arm laid gently against battered ribs helps hold it closed, concealing the burst of crimson spreading beneath. 

He makes his way up the spiral staircase, memory taking him effortlessly back along the labyrinthine hallways.

Silent. Invisible. 

He slides through the ornate double doors at the end and smoothly re-enters the grand ballroom.

Mingles and smiles.

Talks and laughs.

He blends himself with the high society elites, grateful for the throng of bodies, for the noise and the lights and the free-flowing champagne that cover the sounds the civilized has no right to hear.

He listen and observes, works the room one last time as he makes his way out of the manor and slips back into the night. 

Adds to the information that was just given to him.

_Given up_ to him.

He wipes at the flecks of dried blood from beneath his cuticles. He does the same to the dagger he takes from his pocket until it glints in the moonlight, then returns it to his sheath until next time.

This is his game now.

His rules.

A few more moves and the trap will be set.

A few more moves and he will be back with his family.


End file.
